aftermath
by 4Agilepawz
Summary: Idea that was banging around in my head after Guilty as Charged


Burn Notice

Authors Note: my first attempt at a fanfic its been banging around in my brain since I watch the mid season finale. Of course I am not affiliated in any way nor do I own any part of the show or characters portrayed within. This sniplet takes place immediately after Jesse shoots Michael

"_Shooting through a friendly to hit a target is a tricky thing to pull off, there are only a few places in the human body that can take a gunshot without severing a major artery or destroying a vital organ…" Michael Weston_

In fact there were only a handful of expert snipers that could make that shot…Jessie was not one of them. The moment he had felt the cold burn of the bullet, felt it impact his shoulder Michael knew.

"_Pain burning and freezing at the same time_

It was off target, a few millimeters to the right and the bullet would have missed the brachial artery completely, instead it nicked the large artery. Not an immediately fatal shot, but without swift treatment, death by extinguination – blood loss for the layman – was inevitable. His body went into emergency mode, shock already starting to set in, his brain locked down the nerve endings in that area blocking some of the pain, minor veins and capillaries clamped shut to prevent further blood loss.

It would be too little, the bullet had done its job whether Jessie had met to take Michaels life or not, his target had entered the golden hour, those precious ticks of the clock when if medical help arrived in time a life could be saved.

With each beat of his heart Michael knew, that his race was run, Jessie had kept his word, features slack with shock he slowly collapsed to his knees, eyes blank he mechanically threw out his left arm to brace himself from going down. Dark red life spurted from the wound with each of those beats, taking a small part of that golden hour with it.

Barrett moved quickly, grabbing Weston by his good arm, pulling roughly to his feet. Weston in the first stages of shock staggered to his feet and stumbled along with him, his good hand pressed firmly against the wound in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. Barrett ripped the passenger side door the SUV open and roughly pushed Weston into the seat, ignoring the groans of pain from the wounded man as he did so. Michael squirmed around in the seat so that he was facing forward. Laying his head back on the rest he closed his eyes.

_As a soldier, spy or any other field that requires you carry a gun as part of the job, you know that getting shot is always a possibility. You just pray that it never happens to you._

"_There's a cold math to blood loss, the more you lose the weaker you get. When you're on a clock like that it pays to act, no matter how desperate your plan might be. Because __**if **__you wait you might not have a chance…" Michael Weston_

In the SUV training began to take over, the logical regimented part of him coldly assessed his situation. Not good was the understatement of the century, already his vision was starting to grey over like fog rolling in off a bay. The vehicle jolted roughly as Barrett steered around Vaughns team as they fired at the fleeing SUV, bouncing harmlessly off the armored body and re-enforced glass. Michael groaned and hunched forward as he was thrown around in the seat, Barrett laughed. Michaels fingers dug into the flesh around the wound, blood continued to run freely. Michael glanced to his left looking past Barrett who was alternating between watching the road and watching Michael . "Hurts? Well get used to it by the time I get done with you, you'll wish that bullet killed you" Barrett pressed his foot down on the accelerator and the big car leaped forward. Michael leaned his head back for a moment mustering what remaining strength he had left…desperate times called for desperate measures. He lunged to his left grabbing the wheel and jerking it hard. The SUV wobbled as it tried to maintain traction and stability, and then its passenger side wheels lifted. Almost gracefully it was airborne as it continued its roll to the left, slamming down on it's roof and sliding sixty yards rotatating slowly. A tail light that had been broken free rattled to a stop twenty feet from the overturned vehicle, dust and debris floated around before settling once again.

_Regrets, we all have them at one time or another. Whether it's regretting that you never took the opportunities offered you when they came, or whether you did take that opportunity we all have them. Spies aren't supposed to, but then again they aren't suppose to form attachments either. I don't regret forming those attachments. I do regret never really having the chance to say "I love you" and "I'm sorry"…._

Time stopped for just a moment, there were no gun shots in the distance, there was no cold fire in his shoulder, there was no pain at all in fact. Not a good sign. Barrett hung upside down from his seatbelt, dead eyes staring, a trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. Then everything slammed back into normality, the shriek of steel on asphalt, the clatter of the brief case carrying the bible on the road, the drip of blood as it pooled on the ceiling of the car. Michael struggled for a moment with the seatbelt that had temporarily saved his life and then dropped free, gasping in pain. Reaching back over his head he grasped the frame of the truck and pulled. Bright gold comets rimmed in fire shot through the edges of his vision with the effort of moving his battered, bruised and bloody body out the window and onto the hot road. With a gasping groan he managed to pull his upper body free of the wreckage. His eyes closed for a moment, he struggled to breath. A cold deadly lassitude was over coming him, he felt so – so tired, of everything, the struggle to regain his reputation and his former life, to understand his relationship with Fiona, to make his mother understand that in his world for her ignorance _was_ bliss. There were days he just wanted to be free of it all, the heat of the road seeped through his body, it was comforting in its warmth. He blinked slowly, gazing around him only half aware, the silvery case catching his eye…so close yet- so far away, his eyes closed again.

The scuff of boot sole on road pulled him back to awareness, how long had he drifted in that pleasant haze that was over whelming him? Black military boots, topped by black combat pants came into view, a hand reached down and picked up the case. His vision tunneled down to a slender point, he fought to hang onto consciousness, it was a losing battle.

Sam threw the Charger into reverse and swung out onto the access road Barrett had taken, its wide road slicks kicking up gravel and dust in their attempt to find traction. Fiona was leaning out the window ready to fire on Vaughn or his men should they try and stop them. The Charger sloomed between cars and gained open road, its engine roaring as Sam floored it. A thin wisp of smoke rose in the distance.

"Oh my god Sam, Michael…" Fiona whispered as she turned forward in the passengers seat.

` "I know Fi, I know but keep the faith he's strong, but if you're owed any favors right now is the time to call them in. If you know what I mean."

Fiona dashed tears from her eyes angrily, now was not the time to lose it, Michael needed her to be strong and stay sane. Sam breaked hard as the Charger flew up on the sight of the overturned SUV, Michael lay on the road partially free of the wreckage. Fiona didn't wait for the black car to slide to a halt but flung herself out as the car slowed. "Michael!" she screamed running to the prone man.

"_Then I realized proverbs 27:17 that's you and me, you showed me the way, Don't you see Im not afraid? Im not afraid anymore, Im not afraid of death, I'm not afraid of anything….I'm free" from the Good Soldier said in directly to Fiona by Michael_

Fiona fell on the road beside Michael's prone body. "Oh Michael…" she touched his battered face lightly. It was cool, and clammy to the touch despite the midday Miami heat. She felt for a pulse and for a brief moment a she despaired and then her fingers found a faint thready beat, his chest rose faintly. She looked over her shoulder to Sam who was standing behind her. "He's still alive…"

Sam knelt next to her and shook his head, there was blood everywhere Michael's blue shirt was dyed an ever deepening red/blue. "Not for long if we don't get him some help, get my med kit out of the trunk' ever since Jessie had made the threat to shoot Michael, he had made a point of keeping the bag handy. Placing a hand on either side of his friends face he slapped him lightly "Mike…Mike…come on buddy, come on back to us now.." The light slaps elicited no response from the younger man.

He was safe, warm, it was peaceful here floating in the blackness. There were no worries, no regrets, no one trying to kill him. In the distance a voice was calling his name, a voice he knew, a voice he loved more than life its self—her voice, but there was something else calling too something that promised peace at last for a troubled mind and soul. The pull was strong to find that peace at last, that rest that he so very much wanted. A second voice joined hers, a male voice that was almost important as the first, it too was calling him back. Reluctantly he turned away from that tempting peace and consented to answer their call one more time.

Sam's voice became more insistent, the slapping less gentle and he was rewarded by the fluttering of eyelids. Sam looked into the clouded grey blue eyes as they searched back and forth for the voices that had called him back. "That's it Mikey, come on back buddy" A frown furrowed Michaels forehead, he tried to form words but no sound came. His eyes flicked back and forth confusion and then reality hit, _**Pain **_that cold fire was back with a vengeance, he gasped and blinked rapidly. Suddenly she was there, her gentle cool hands touching his face.

For a moment his eyes cleared, a smile played a across his face, he took a shallow breath and said her name "Ffffiiii" his heart stuttered in his chest, he tried to take a shuddering breath and failed. 

**Well that about covers it, we all know that Michael doesn't die very hard to keep a show going if you kill of the main character. Please let me know what you think. Now that I got it out of my system maybe this idea will leave me alone for a while and let me go back to my book that Im writting**


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